My pastor, mentor, and spiritual father, Cecil Sewell, used to tell the story of George Cox. Back in the 1930s, Cecil’s dad was a pastor in Alabama. He told Cecil about George, who was a member of his church. George Cox was the picture of faithfulness, in church every Sunday. What made that more impressive was that George Cox had no legs. He drug himself to church every week, using tree limbs as crutches. Then two deacons would carry him up the steps and place him in a box attached to the side wall of the little church. Many had offered to drive George to church, but he wouldn’t have it.

Fast forward about 30 years. Cecil was now preaching himself, doing revivals all over Alabama. In one such meeting, he got lost looking for the church. When he got there that night, the service had already begun. They were waiting for him to preach. So he rushed to the pulpit, opened his Bible, and began to read the text.

Then Cecil saw something out of the corner of his eye. Attached to the side wall of the small sanctuary was an old wooden box. And sitting in that box was an old man – a man who had no legs. Yes – it was George Cox.

Most “committed” Christians with two good legs can’t make it to church two weeks in a row. George Cox did it for 50 years in a row. Oh, that we had more men like George Cox today.